


For Her

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/F, POV First Person, Past Character Death, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I cannot do anything. </p><p>I am forced to watch the pain my love endures. The pain she inflicts upon herself. </p><p>There is nothing I can do. I am helpless. </p><p> </p><p>Warning! This is not for the faint of heart! Mentions of alcohol abuse, self-harm, and thoughts of suicide. </p><p>I am sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Her

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of like "what happens next" after the events of You Are My Punshine. Told from Barbara's perspective. I'm sorry I made Arryn suffer. 
> 
> God. . .I need to stop hurting her in these fanfics. Next one has to be fluff about her being adorable and recieving kisses and hugs for being so gosh damn adorable.

It's torturous to watch. 

It's painful to see. 

I _hate_ being there when it happens. 

Worst than that is knowing they're common when I'm not around. 

It's late. 

I want to be in bed with her. 

I can't fall asleep because I know she's experiencing one of _them_. 

Her hands clench the sheets. Her heart beats rapidly. Her face is scrunched and contorted. 

Sweat beads down her forehead. Her chest heaves. 

She mumbles and whimpers as the tears fall. 

She begins to yell as her body convulses. 

Then she lets out a tear-jerking scream of terror. 

And wakes up. 

She'll scan the bedroom and she'll search madly for me. 

She finds her search is futile. 

My heart breaks more as she curls into a ball and cries. 

And when she awakes in the morning, eyes red and cheeks wet, the cycle repeats. 

She'll drink her sorrows and sometimes smokes. 

I can't bear to watch when she opens that box. 

There's nothing I can do as she opens the blade and runs it across her perfect skin. 

I scream at her to stop, hot tears brimming my eyes. But she can't hear me. 

After she cleans up the blood - sometimes she doesn't bother - she'll crawl in to bed, neglecting her rumbling stomach, and the nightmares will return. 

I wish this never happened. 

It's my fault. It's my fucking fault. I did this. 

Ever since that day she's been broken and I can't fix her. 

I worry she'll take even more drastic measures. I've seen her eye up the knife and run a finger across her wrist. I've seen her look at the bottle of alcohol in her hand and glance at the meds in the cabinet. 

I just want to hold her tight. Not for me, for her. It's always been for her.


End file.
